


Rheid

by mysterioustranger



Category: One Piece
Genre: Hatesex, M/M, Marineford (place), Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterioustranger/pseuds/mysterioustranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the Sabaody episode, Borsalino and Sakazuki discuss their move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rheid

            Admiral Borsalino enjoys a grand entrance. He likes to appear and disappear around the Marineford headquarters: even more, he enjoys the astonished looks from officers not yet used to his massive, yellow-clad figure suddenly popping up in midst of a glimmering cloud where an empty space used to be. Shock value is a nice collateral effect. His presence haunts the entire place.

            Today, he blinks in and out of his photonic state in a personal mission to find Fleet Admiral Sengoku. It was him who convoked Borsalino to the Marine Headquarters, probably to discuss certain points about his report regarding the Sabaody incident. The World Government should be interested in what he has to say about Bartholomew Kuma – what a strange man – if what happened there has finally made him a bit interesting. However, it is Sengoku who decides exactly how and what to report to the upper instances: but he is nowhere to be found at the moment.

            Upon returning to the Fleet Admiral’s office for the third time, he catches a glimpse of somebody else casually leaning their forearm against its outer walls. Upon closer inspection, that figure doesn’t match Sengoku’s in looks or demeanor. It pertains to a man close to Admiral Kizaru’s own height, a Marine’s coat draped as a cape over his broad shoulders. Everything about him is in perfect order: his crossed arms, his tightly pressed square jaw, the cap casting a shadow that sombers his eyes even more, reflecting the emotionality of a dead fish.

            “You’re here,” The man says plainly, without looking up, his words devoid of shock or respect.

            “Ah… he _llo_ , Sakazuki.” Borsalino adjusts his amber sunglasses with an index finger. All remaining strands of glint have merged into his strident suit by the time he’s moved closer to his peer, and the light Logia user tilts his head to the side, a grin painted simply across his face. “You… don’t happen to know where Sengoku _is_ …?”

            “I happen to,” from his tone of voice, Admiral Akainu seems unimpressed. “The Fleet Admiral is sailing to Impel Down on a consulting mission. Only the higher ranks are informed,” His jawbone tightens even more, “For the love of- please stop asking around for him.”

            “Hmm…I’m so sor _ry_ … How would I even kno-ow…?” Borsalino’s tone peaks at the end of the sentence in mock disinterest. For all he knows, Sengoku could have told him fifty times; his superior can verge on ranting when he’s stressed— which is to say, frequently, so Borsalino has developed a certain tendency to just pretending to listen.

            Sakazuki gives him a look that could make a small child cry. It strikes the other Admiral as oddly humorous, but he won’t laugh.

            “If you bothered acting your rank,” After a brief pause, Sakazuki unfolds his arms. “Speaking of which. Where is Aokiji? He’s supposed to supervise communication in the Fleet Admiral’s absence.”

            Borsalino blinks and slowly rises his palms as the lone answer. The other Admiral’s lips part slightly to expose his gritted teeth– the Red Dog lives up to his alias.

            With Ace’s execution in the near horizon, tension is palpable in Marineford and the more philosophical Kuzan deals with the situation in his own way. His long, thoughtful roundabouts have increased in frequency and length – but as far as Borsalino is concerned, he can do as he pleases.

            Admiral Akainu disagrees ostensibly. He can tolerate Kuzan in quieter times, but their mutual disgust will always be an unspoken truth. Spending so much time thinking about the enemy might be making the Red Dog a bit paranoid, in fact. Maybe he’s standing out of the Fleet Admiral’s office like a stone guardian in hopes it will make Kuzan look bad by comparison? Borsalino finds the thought amusing.

            But that’s improbable – knowing Sakazuki as he does, he just thinks it’s the right thing to do. Someone has to stay, after all. He is a man of duty.

            “Ahh…” The light user shakes his head slowly, thoughts gathering back to his reason to be here. “What should we do-o…? I can’t issue my report without Sengoku…”

            “Show some respect,” The reply is automatic, but after a brief pause Sakazuki looks up, eyes narrowing in intrigue. “Your report… on Sabaody?”

            Borsalino grins genially.

            “Mmhmm… but mostly,” He pronounces the name slowly, enjoying the way each syllable rolls off his tongue, “Bartholomew Kuma.”

            Sakazuki’s eyebrows rise and fall quickly, in the first phantom of an expression that has crossed his face during the exchange. However, whatever input he could issue is conveniently interrupted by a shout-out from the Fleet Admiral’s den-den mushi – _biribiribiribiribiri_. It takes him a couple of seconds to react.

            “I will get that.” The dutiful Akainu doesn’t hesitate to enter the room, dragging the door aside with a look of utmost seriousness, almost reverence. Shortly afterwards, the incoming call becomes inaudible, and Borsalino wonders whether to follow suit or not. Perhaps it is safest to talk in private; perhaps he can prod the other Admiral for a reaction, as he very well likes to do. That’s just one of his many ideas, though.

            He dissolves into thin air in a bright daze, reappearing at the other side of the door like an interference in reality. The Fleet Admiral’s office builds around him quickly, tidy and spacious – still cozy somewhat, full of Sengoku’s traditional paraphernalia. Absolute Justice is proclaimed loud and clear, framed in the wall right beside the desk. Those words always call back to a part of him – a young, idealistic part, the one who studied one night after another and who remained inspired to play by the rules, to be a better person. Poor thing.

            But even more interesting is what he sees at the office desk. Admiral Akainu, conversing with the white-and-blue den-den which resembles Sengoku – bespectacled, harboring his unmistakable black-rimmed glasses and braided beard, as he sits in none other than Sengoku’s armchair, issuing only monosyllabic replies to what the communication device has to say.

            “My…my.” Borsalino smiles faintly, shyly, suddenly feeling he’s witnessing a very private moment. Isn’t this a betrayal in Sakazuki’s book…? Perhaps he did it without noticing: he can be so ingenuous at times. Sakazuki plays by the rules, always and always.

            “Yes. Yes. . . Where?” Oblivious to his presence Akainu doesn’t interrupt his idle talk into the den-den. “When will he be back? . . . Understood. Damn Aokiji,” he mutters under his breath, just after the living machine dims into lethargy. He turns away and visibly flinches upon laying eyes on Borsalino. “I did not—I—“

             “Hmm…don’t worry…you’re not bothering me,” The light user moves in closer, wiping his striped suit nonchalantly, and takes a casual look about the room. The amount of pending paperwork already on the desk is unholy. “Poor Sengoku… Should I issue my report to you instead...?”

            He hopes that will stir something, but Akainu doesn’t seem to have caught the insinuation in its entirety. He relaxes, falling back on the seat.

            “Do what you will.” Sakazuki rests his head between his thumb and index fingers. “You use your powers crudely, Borsalino. Just as in Sabaody. I actually came here to ask you about that.” He pulls the cap from his head, letting it rest on the desk – making the space his, as Borsalino cynically notes. ”Did you really destroy an entire Grove because some pirates wouldn’t give you directions?”

            “…did I do tha-aat…?” He laughs. It’s true he never measures his strength upon attacking – his power is sublime and he enjoys being surprised at its strength, playing, testing for reactions and gasping in mock amazement when his enemies try to slice into his intangible form, as Hawkins and Apoo did back in the Archipelago. Neither is in custody now, but the memory brings a strange glee. “Maybe…? It went a little out of hand…”

            “As always,” the Red Dog sighs. “Shooting flies with light beams. I heard Kuma’s version says that all the Strawhats are dead. You fought together, you killed them.”

            “ _Liar_ ,” Borsalino’s eyebrows come together in a furrow, his grin unperturbed. “…I could have crushed that Roronoa’s bo-ones, the pleasure would have been _mine_ ,” He gives an idle nod. “But Rayleigh, the Dark King, he interrupted me… and _Kuma_ …? Kuma took them all… away.” He opens his left palm, gesturing as to emphasize. “It was quite amazing.”

            “Pirates are pirates.” The other man declares. The dark lines under his eyes are all the more obvious now. “You were showing off, right? Holding your glint over them and watching their faces. Watching them come pathetically to their friend’s defense.” He pinches the bridge of his nose disdainfully and slowly extends the touch to his temples. “Don’t smile. It is the son of Dragon you let escape. It’s no time to take things lightly.”

            Borsalino’s grin has been widening at the corners gradually through the speech; Sakazuki knows him all too well. He has no say in how to take failure, but knows for a fact that things would have gone differently had it been Sakazuki at the Archipelago, for that one Admiral only ever fights for a concrete end.

            He likes that, in a way. They joined the Marine at the same time, they called them monsters—they know each other fairly well, far beyond the confines of battle. A lot of people see Sakazuki as a timebomb with a power so destructive it consumes him… but all his brute force is dosed according to plan. He always needs to be in complete control.

            Immersed in this idea, his attention drifts to the part of Sakazuki’s tattoo visible through the open ‘v’ in his collar. Sometimes he sees it in its entirety, when the Red Dog meditates or trains around the headquarters – but the last really close look he took was years ago, when they were just underlings and he enjoyed prodding his peer into uncomfortable situations just to see what happened. He holds a mental picture of that tattoo clear as day, of the floral patterns and flames swirling across that criminally muscular body. It felt like such a victory, being finally able to touch it… being able to surprise a man who thinks he has seen everything, to be lent control for a short while.

            (Strangely, after all this time, it’s the sight of him at the Fleet Admiral’s chair and the thought of his capability for destruction that makes Borsalino’s mind go there. Years have gone by and yet here he is, standing beneath him, daydreaming through the other man’s lecture.)

            “That…is just yo-our way,” Remembering he should pretend to be listening, he tilts his head to the side, “Isn’t it…?”

            “The _right_  way,” Akainu affirms and upon saying that, he seems lost in thought. Something about his devotion is endearing, because he’s such at an opposed place to Borsalino right now.

            It dawns on him quickly. Sakazuki’s expression is fixed on the motto beneath him, his eyes full of that belief wholeheartedly. It is the only thing he remotely connects to, the only that touches something inside him, that makes him boil inside like his molten magma. It’s his only love, his madman’s belief, a justice so harsh it’s not even utilitarian; yet not even absolute justice is enough for him.

            Give him more power and the world will tremble.

            Of course, there is not a single person in the Headquarters or in the room who doesn’t admire Sengoku; but anybody would understand, should they see Sakazuki as he does, that this is quite a sight.

            Borsalino leans over to take a better look, tilting his frame to the side as though he were to prepare a kick. But he doesn’t shift his weight on his feet, instead lowering his head in mock humility and planting a knee to the ground in the parody of a reverence. The reflections on his shades obscure his squinty eyes for a second and a corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

            “Behold Fleet Admiral Akainu…,” he teases slowly. “Hmmm. What a sad day for the Navy.”

            Without looking up, Borsalino can tell the other man has shot him a look that could kill.

            “Careful.” He snaps.

            “Ooh... sorry…,” The wrinkles as the corners of Borsalino’s eyes accentuate fondly. “I did not mean to offend, but… this is fit for you…, isn’t it…? After all… who knows more than you do, about justice…? What’s good for the world…? O-oh, not me, for _sure_ …”

            “I don’t need your sarcasm,” it’s a stone-cold reply.

            But the playful Admiral dares to squint up from his half-crouched position to peek at the glorious reaction. Admiral Akainu is reddened at the cheeks, his brow furrowed profusely, his neck pulsating visibly with emotion. His eyes are frozen on the motto beneath them, so focused he barely seems to notice the fingertips daring to brush against his thigh, gently weighing him.

            “You would never… interfere… with the Fleet Admiral,” Borsalino speaks softly, slowly, calculating what the next move will be. “But you know… you and I both… that given the right moment, you could crush Whitebeard, couldn’t yo-oou…? Imagine,” His eyes widen for a second. A little imagination can do no harm. “All these pirates, with the honour they think they have. Imagine picking up a fight with Fire Fist… walking up to him and ripping his life apa-aart… _personally_.”

            He doesn’t even have to try, to sense the effect of his words on the other Admiral. They are curious, on a man who appears so secure: Borsalino enjoys the view greatly. Sakazuki has not moved an inch, each muscle in his body tense like rock. Each? Maybe he should test that – in a split second, Borsalino leans forward to whisper at the other man’s ear.

            “Ooh…my.” It takes a blink before his Red Dog can acknowledge what’s happening: the light Logia user has already brought a hand to the pink rose he wears at all times, close enough to the tattoo – the other hand caressing Sakazuki’s inner thigh. It’s always fun to see if he still gets _literally_ hard for justice.

            He is only stopped from sinking his teeth into the muscular neck by Sakazuki’s equally strong hand seizing his jaw. He feels a dangerous heat starting to gather about Sakazuki’s thumb and index fingers, even a thin trail of smoke escaping upwards. Borsalino’s eyes widen and so does his smile. He pushes out a nonchalant laugh and stops fidgeting around the other Admiral’s groin, innocently rising his palms like an arrested man would.

            How scary.

            “Kizaru,” Sakazuki spits the alias as if it were an insult. “You’re--- you’re. Get your hands off me now.”

            “Ohh…,” He mutters. “You should burn me.”

            “I will.”

            Sakazuki stands up with full force, causing the other Admiral to tumble back slightly. His chest rises and falls slowly as he calms down: but the reddening around his palms decreases and he doesn’t walk away. Borsalino doesn’t rise to his feet either, instead choosing to squint up in exaggerated admiration, marveling at the imposing form towering over him. Sakazuki adjusts the coat over his shoulders and its medals glint under the light, authoritarian and amazing. He truly is a sight to behold.

            The light user licks his lips in anticipation and leans in to try his luck again. He slips his fingers under Sakazuki’s belt softly, and the other man doesn’t flinch away. He was too quick the first time, too eager – he should know Akainu doesn’t like feeling cornered, especially not when he is doing something fundamentally wrong, so he won’t be zipping down just yet. Sakazuki needs to decide if he wants to do this, even though the decision was made for him just a few minutes ago. The thought of it sends shivers down Borsalino’s back.

            The wait is only seconds long. He is too feral, too fierce, and he never leaves anything half done. Borsalino allows him to finish unzipping himself, taking no time to expose his thick, veined cock, sublime even if just half erect. The light user can’t turn down that offer, but first he will take his time unbuttoning Sakazuki’s shirt. It’s no time to rush, and he wants to see the pale blue flames swirling across those perfect abdominals.

            Only then, Borsalino notices he has been biting down on his lower lip hard. He smiles indulgently when Sakazuki’s jaw tightens.

            “I swear, Borsalino,” He utters, a frown darkening his features. There is not a change in his usual fuming tone. “If you don’t suck right now-“

            But the rest of his sentence blurs into a gasp when the light user brings a hand to the base of his cock and another to his hip. He wants to enjoy the subtle shudder in Sakazuki’s enormous form upon feelinghis tongue roll along the side, up and down, rhythmically dragging along its widening length. He needs to enjoy the slight shake turn into a full-blown tremor of frustration when he avoids touching its tip. Sakazuki’s jaw is so tight he looks almost in pain. He doesn’t make a sound.

            He humps forward, spreading a slippery trail of saliva and precum across the other man’s cheek. Borsalino wipes his stubble with a thumb and feels a pinch of irritation at the partial stain of his amber lenses. Such impatience – but now that the other Admiral is playing along, he won’t be allowed a cheap release. It has been long since the last time and this is too exciting an opportunity to pass up. He presses his tongue flat against the bottom of Sakazuki’s cock and licks up slowly, again retreating just before reaching its tip, moving his tongue down to assist his hand in fondling the other man’s sac. The fingers at the back of his head burn like water short of scalding, gripped tightly around his nape, digging into it. It’s far from a caress – it’s a statement of power, a reminder of who is in charge.

            The light Logia user stops for a second and purses his lips together, rubbing them against the upper part of the pulsating member. Sakazuki’s body quivers violently at the contact, as though one of his beloved earthquakes was dashing through his muscles; pleasure, anger, power, all the same thing to him, and it amuses Borsalino deeply. He looks up to make sure the other Admiral has a good view of his cock brushing against his face, suddenly retreating back and grinning dumbly, still stroking him as a consolation.

            The other man’s features harshen in frustration and he pulls back, trying to immobilize him, to test for the angle that will catch him off guard. Taking advantage of the fact that Sakazuki is focused on trying to seize his mouth open, Borsalino’s free hand slips between the other man’s legs, pushing on his deliciously hard cheeks…, but the moment he weighs for his hole, Sakazuki shakes violently. 

            “ ** _No_** ,” The word comes out hoarsely and Borsalino retreats in disappointment. Sakazuki has never let himself be fucked in return, not once; not when they warmed each other’s beds more often, two young and idealistic underlings, their eyes set on the stars. He has not changed the slightest bit. While Admiral Kizaru has gone cynical in his old age, Akainu… his Akainu, he is a caricature now of what he always wanted to be. It’s funny.

            And he still doesn’t take it up from behind. How disappointing -- maybe some other time.

            Teasing has become a power struggle quickly, one which Sakazuki is determined to win. The other man’s grip on Borsalino’s head strengthens; he stops for a second, tilts his head to the side, but whatever sardonic remark he was about to let go is cut short by the strong pull of Akainu’s fingers into his hair, his spare hand forcing its thumb and index fingers into Borsalino’s mouth, trying to seize it open. At first he allows it, allows Sakazuki to get his release and wraps his lips tightly around his member. He watches as the other Admiral’s features soften slightly – even a sigh escapes his lips, a sound so rare and highly pleasing to Borsalino’s overly sensitive hearing.

            It doesn’t take long before Akainu pushes much deeper into his throat. Borsalino allows him to stay still for a few seconds, enjoying how his cock stiffens inside. He allows Akainu to pull off slightly and rub against his inner cheek before thrusting in again, so far in it’s almost uncomfortable, if interesting. The rhythm increases; every thrust is brutally territorial, leaving no time even to gag.

            He does not like that. It ruins the fun. He turns intangible for a second, remaining there and yet removing all contact from Akainu: and he shifts to the side to dodge him as he would the blow of an enemy. The Red Dog growls in frustration at the sudden emptiness: it takes no time for him to try grasping Borsalino’s mouth again. His touch is harsh and desperate, probably intrusive for anybody else, but the light Logia user sucks on those fingertips welcomingly.

            “—Ea- _aasy_ …” He mutters trying to even down the other man’s impatience, softly stroking him with one hand and pressing the other against Sakazuki’s. His fingers are hot and wet and surprisingly for both, he finds himself nuzzling against the palm, finding a certain comfort in its warmth. When he looks up, Sakazuki’s brow is furrowed in confusion, but he doesn’t pull away. He looks fascinated. Borsalino knows he’s a strange man; of course his affection is going to be strange…, and at this thought, he feels a pinch of vulnerability and he’s quick to smile, playing out as though he was only fishing for a reaction. “Ooh. Aren’t yo-oou cuddly after all…?”

            The truce doesn’t last long after that. One doesn’t mess with the Red Dog’s pride. Borsalino nonchalantly allows his mouth to be seized open and fucked at an impatient, furious rhythm. Neutralizing any intention of phasing out, Akainu frees one hand and pushes it fully into the back of his head, sending a numbing while not quite painful wave through it.

            Borsalino hates haki for a short second, but he resigns. Sakazuki’s rhythm increases steadily, so out of control the other Admiral can’t help but looking up.

            “Don’t watch—“ Akainu’s order trails off into a grunt as he spills deep into his throat and it’s _boiling_ , sudden and enough to shock even Kizaru. His teeth collide in surprise, biting into a mouthful of magma as Akainu quickly pulls his cock away to spread the last of his hot cum across Borsalino’s face.

            However, he only gets to press against him once, maybe twice, before the light user phases out of his material state – Akainu’s burning hands soon gripping a glimmering empty space. The brightness gathers again a few steps away and Borsalino reappears, standing on his feet, as polished as ever, the last shiny drops of light drifting away from his bright yellow suit.

            He brings two fingers to his jawline and massages its sides as the eyebrows raise profusely in mock worry, the corners of his lips slightly curled downwards.

            “Oh, my. You’re so scary, sometimes.” He says in a flippant tone, as usual, wondering casually if Akainu knows this is the sincerest thing he’s said. He produces a handkerchief from the pocket of his yellow suit and takes out his sunglasses to clean them. “And I thought yo-oou were fair game,” he takes a few seconds to readjust, slips them on again and glances back at Akainu, who still grips his own member with a look of utter despise.

            Borsalino pauses before leaning towards him and watching as he dresses, tucking himself back into place, regaining his composure. The last to go is his shirt, which Sakazuki buttons back. Again blocking the view of his tattoo, a tragic thing indeed. The thought that he won’t get to touch it again soon displeases Borsalino. My, does he like it.

            (Maybe this won’t ever happen again, and he feels a little like embracing the other Admiral now that he has the chance. It would be manipulative nonsense, of course  – Sakazuki would have none of it. But wouldn’t it be nice to rest his head on the shoulder to hear his pulse slowly wane into normality.

            …For a fact, though, Sakazuki hates to be touched or talked to after coming. Besides, one thing is to let him know he’s Borsalino’s favourite plaything – but weaknesses are much better left unsaid.)

            Sakazuki won’t sit down in the Fleet Admiral’s chair anymore. He’s hopped right back to reality by now. Judging from his thoughtful, harsh expression, he’s thinking about work; Borsalino can’t compete with that, although it’s a shared interest.

            His mind wanders inevitably to the Sabaody fiasco again.

            “Soo…” He taps his fingers on the desk. “What shall we do with Kuma…?”

            Sakazuki looks back at him in alert, as though in the passing minutes, he had forgotten about his presence. Who knows what goes through that head of his?

            “We should wait,” it’s a mechanical reply, but his tone soon lowers. “Borsalino…when a part of the system is dysfunctional, it must be neutralized,” the words come out slow, as though he really wants to be understood.

            He understands. Sentomaru has some ideas about what to do, certainly, but Kuma is Vegapunk’s to experiment on—and, almost certainly, the other Admiral is not talking exclusively about Kuma.

            Borsalino doesn’t know whether he agrees or not, or whose side he would be on, come to think of sides. But he knows how to tell when Sakazuki wants to be alone. Maybe relieving out his stress has cleared up his mind. Only good - or, better put, fun - can come out of that.

            This place holds no interest anymore for him. He wants to leave behind the strange trail of tension left between them. So he pats the other man’s forearm gently—there's barely any response, and blinks away again. He will wait elsewhere for Sengoku. He will wait for Kuzan and for the war.

            But not without taking one last, long look at Sakazuki, immersed in contemplation, his Sakazuki at the Fleet Admiral’s office.

            He grins dumbly. What a thought.


End file.
